


Between the Crosses

by misshitandmiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Only one left, Survivor Guilt, picking up the pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:30:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misshitandmiss/pseuds/misshitandmiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once the war is done, the real work begins for those left behind, but a quiet moment is never amiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Crosses

Between the Crosses

Poppies were not always red, you know. An ordinary carnation placed in a glass of blue water will turn blue as the petals soak up the false brightness, and poppies are far from mundane. Poppies were planted in blood soaked fields where thousands of men had lost their lives, and the flowers absorbed the lifeblood of each husk left behind. 

Hermione had never been to Flanders, but she had seen photos of the fields filled with crosses and crimson flowers. The wizarding ones were particularly poignant, because they were so still. No birds flew over the open fields, no creatures ventured past the sturdy iron gates. Only the delicate blossoms, gently waving in the wind, belied the fact that this was an animated photograph.

It pained her to see Hogwarts so, but she could think of no better way to honour the dead. On the vast open lawns, where they had once run as children. Many of her classmates lay buried. Atop each solemn grave, she planted a pure white poppy, and watched as each slowly leeched into a deep blood red.

She fell to her knees before the final grave, unmarked as all the others. This grave did not need a marker, for everyone knew who lay beneath the cool dirt here. Carefully, she scooped a hole for her last flower, and placed it gently. When she had covered the roots firmly, she sat back on her heels to await the transformation. 

Time passed, and Hermione’s slightly unsteady smile grew. Perhaps a marker was appropriate after all.

 

**Here lies Harry James Potter, the pure at heart.**


End file.
